


Lift Up These Lifeless Bones

by fujiidom



Category: Sky High (2005)
Genre: Coffee, F/M, Gen, Loss, Roses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2805992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fujiidom/pseuds/fujiidom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the people to pull her back from being away for a while, Layla would not have guessed it would be Warren.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lift Up These Lifeless Bones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TriffidsandCuckoos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriffidsandCuckoos/gifts).



> I would love to write more in this universe, some day, so hopefully you enjoy it. Happy Holidays!

Layla barely made it out of Sky High a year before she ran for the hills. Well. More specifically, she ran for the hills, deserts, plains, anywhere that would have her. 

It’s not that she was running _from_ anything, per se, but it probably looked that way to the untrained eye. Most of the people in her graduating class had splintered into similar paths, though, so she didn’t feel especially bad so much as occasionally homesick.

Will had agreed that ending things early was the best way for a clean break. Somewhere between his third missed anniversary dinner and fiftieth date interrupted by big trouble downtown, she knew this could only end in her resenting him in the long run. They were such good friends, she didn’t want to end up marrying him some day (something that she’d probably dreamed about when they were still young and in high school), only to feel more trapped in an all-too-often one sided relationship. 

He was so sweet about it. He cried a little and they kissed and she’s not sure that she’d ever fully heal, but it had to be done. Will was still operating as though his parents’ relationship was the inevitable goal for the two of them. Certainly the Strongholds had a love that was admirable and even enviable, but it’s also far too narrow a brush to paint your own relationship with. Will was looking for a partner in crime fighting, not just in romance, so it was never going to work out. Layla simply had no interest in that life and her powers, while mighty and important, felt cheapened whenever she used them in such a way.

And so she ran, to razed ground, to brittle earth, and to save the world in the way that _she_ wanted.

Until the call home came too loudly to ignore. In a small town on the outskirts of Tucson, it’s not just a nostalgic call but a physical one as her cell phone buzzing cut through meditative silence as she finished helping a small park from growing in the middle of an especially dried out desert scrub. 

Suddenly returning home is not just a whim, but a necessity.

\--

Layla heard from Warren first, oddly, not knowing that he was giving her only one side of a very tangled story. It wasn’t like Warren to call at all, so she was especially nervous about what that meant for the news. The panic in his voice and the real fear in his tone was news enough that something was wrong, but when he elaborated on the what and the why she all but ran back to meet him.

Warren was a lot like her, after Sky High, a deserter. In a different way, obviously, but he still came across as the kind of person that wouldn’t stick around to long so it felt a little less a statement as a natural decision to drift around. 

Although strangely, last she heard, he was at a university studying philosophy. Maybe that was the punchline to a joke Magenta was telling her via email update, but he was the odd kind of person that she wouldn’t even doubt it being a true story.

Unlike the rest of their group, he really didn’t keep in touch. She was surprised he showed up to her graduation party, let alone keep her cell phone for this long, but he must have. Not having had a permanent address for more than six months, Layla couldn’t figure out how else how else he could’ve gotten it. Maybe from one of their other alumnae, but it wasn’t like he was writing pen pal letters with Zach or Ethan, so who knew.

There were a lot of questions she had about his time away, but right now Warren needed help burying his mother and maybe now wasn’t time to worry about the getting answers.

\---

When Warren gripped her hand tightly at the funeral service, Layla squeezed back.

Then she looked up and realized while he was still certainly grieving, there was a very specific reason he grasped her palm so firmly. 

His father. 

The service was small with only four other people there, but it suddenly felt like she was part of the world’s audience. All of who would be wondering how and why Barron Battle had managed to get out of the quadrupled life sentence. Before she’d even figured out a reasonable enough legitimate excuse – a day’s pardon for family emergency, a favor from a higher up with a bleeding heart, anything – he approached Warren and frowned.

Suddenly, things took a turn for the serious.

“I will _fix_ this, Warren.” Barron’s voice sent a chill down her spine. 

Warren stared back, as transfixed as Layla was, unsure of what to make of his father’s presence or his words.

Barron seemed to understand this and moved forward with a grim severity. His posture felt threatening, but as Layla gripped Warren’s hand more tightly, it didn’t feel like it was directed at either of them. “She didn’t deserve to die alone, Warren. You don’t deserve to live your life without a mother.”

It was like he purposefully spoke in riddles. Layla understood the sentiment, but it was so difficult to parse what exactly he was talking about. They all knew it was terrible for Warren to experience this, but there’s nothing to stop it. Unless he was claiming he could stop death, which, no matter how great the super power, no one’s been capable of that feat yet. 

Barron inched even closer to where Warren stood with Layla so that he was only inches from the former’s face. He reached out a palm and cupped Warren’s cheek. It was perhaps the most intimate she’d ever seen someone be with Warren. As someone who had held his hand on several occasions, that should say something about what he allowed of people entering his personal space. Instead of doing more than flinching, Warren seemed shocked enough to allow his father a moment to stroke his chin with a thumb. “My dear boy,” Barron said gravely. “They will pay for this.”

Warren’s hand warmed to her touch but she gripped it still. Barron pulled his hand back as though he had grabbed a pot handle without an oven mitt. He remained smiling, although still solemnly.

As he backed away, Layla seemed to only just realize he was wearing a suit. Making the prison escape or release feel even more ominously unexplained. A chiffon scarf and a single white rose set off his suit.

Layla bristled as he leaned down over the coffin and pulled the single white rose tucked in his suit pocket. Laying it over top of the shiny oak, he pressed a palm to the lid and held it there for a moment.

Warren appeared to awaken from the trance she was still swimming around in and turned to her with a look of fear on his face. “Call Will.”

Layla watched as Barron pulled his hand away and walked off without saying or doing anything more. 

It was like being drunk or mid-day dream. She had to practically pull her attention away from Barron’s back as he left.

“What?” She asked.

“Call Will. Right now,” Warren repeated as he nearly threw her hand down from where he’d been holding it. 

“Why? Warren, we’re in the middle of—“ Layla started but Warren didn’t wait. He grabbed for her clutch and shuffled around its contents looking for her phone. “What are you doing?”

“Call Will and his parents, right now, Layla.”

She pulled her phone from his grasp and started scrolling for Will’s number, still unsure. She hit dial and waited and waited for an answer. Nothing. She tried again and again. 

Warren’s breathing picked up and he looked sick to his stomach. “It’s too late.”

The pastor helped Warren’s aunt unlatch the small cage set up to the side of the grave marker. A single white dove escaped and soared up into the air. 

The phone continued to ring, unanswered.

\---

They don’t allow cell phones in hospital rooms. Layla always forgot this until she was there. She smiled at the orderly who informed her of the policy and continued on with Warren leading the way to the Strongholds’ room.

As if sensing they were there, Will leapt up from their bedside with a start and took off across the room at Warren. 

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion and silently. Like her hearing had gone out or the car she was in was about to get sideswiped but there was nothing she could do to stop it. 

Will put Warren through a wall and even though she kept screaming about other patients and his own parents very delicate state hooked up to machines and tubes, there was nothing to stop it from happening. 

Warren, looking absolutely resigned to this and putting up no fight at all, lay on the crumpled remains of the hospital room’s entryway covered in drywall and wood chips. 

The hospital staff tried to run interference but only got knocked back onto the ground. It was an appalling two minutes of unadulterated rage, fear, and testosterone, but ended with Will predictably cracking under the weight of it all. Much like the door’s frame did behind Warren’s shoulder being thrown at it.

They sat in a heap on the ground with Layla trying to make excuses to the staff about whatever they just saw. She promised to pay for the damages and assured them that charges would be discussed amongst the two men. 

When she went back into the disheveled room, it felt disingenuous to have called them men earlier, because they both looked so young and so fragile. 

“Are you done?” Layla asked both sad and upset, but not one more than the other. Will was clearly at a breaking point and if there’s one thing they didn’t need right now it’s to lose yet another person.

Will nodded and took a shaky breath to try and calm himself. “It was something in their coffee.”

The chill was back and she didn’t know if she should press for more or let it be enough.

“I had to get up early and go to a ribbon cutting with them in Maxville.” Will looked away, his anger rising again. “I brought two cups because I was especially tired after a late night—“ Will looked at Layla, then the ground again, “out doing things. So I brought a 20 oz cup from home. My dad was holding it while I gave my speech. We were supposed to get lunch after so I guess they figured they’d pay me back and split it in the meantime. Whatever happened, eventually, I passed out and when I came to we were all here.”

Layla’s brow creased. “I don’t understand. Why are you not unconscious, too, then?”

“I only had a few sips. They probably finished the whole twenty ounces.”

There was a deafening silence of everyone knowing who was responsible but not saying anything. All that could be heard was the beeps and hum of the medical equipment. 

“You’d be dead,” Warren said, honestly. “If you’d drank the whole cup of coffee, you would be dead right now. For sure.”

“And so what? I’m supposed to be glad that my parents are in a medically induced coma?”

“No, but I’m sure they’d prefer that happen over you being gone,” Warren explained.

“You need to stop trying to make excuses for—“ Will sat back, some of the bite from his anger returning for a moment.

“I’m not making excuses,” Warren interrupted with a seriousness that shut Will’s response up immediately. “I’m just trying to say. Let’s move on from here happy that at least there won’t be another funeral to go to this week.”

Will looked very sullen and unnerved by the dose of reality that seemed to be. “About that, I’m sorry, I wanted to be there but obviously I was a bit busy this morning.”

“Right.” Warren said clipped, not commenting on the plans he’d already brought up having prior to the accident, but it wasn’t the time to kick someone while they’re down.

“So, what now?” Layla said seriously. The only one genuinely unsure of what to do at this point. At least the guys had problems to address. She felt kind of useless unless she was spinning disaster recovery. Blame five years spent specializing in helping destroyed land kindle growth, she was always looking forward towards the bloom, not settling for a sapling. 

There was silence back at her. The pair sat there, shattered by the events of the day and clearly stumped on ideas of making things better. That's what she was there for, after all, and she took a calming sigh before reaching out to them both.

She grabbed their hands in hers. “We’re going to figure this out.”

Behind her, a small, withering vase of gift shop roses burst out upwards along the wall into a thicket.


End file.
